


That Guy

by chase_acow



Category: Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: Age Difference, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, canon adjacent, movie typical violence and gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-13
Updated: 2007-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:45:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chase_acow/pseuds/chase_acow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Matt was trying desperately to ignore the chaos reigning around him, if he got out of this alive then he was never playing Grand Theft Auto again.  He’d stick with Frogger.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	That Guy

_**Fic: That Guy (Die Hard) NC-17**_  
Title: That Guy  
Author: Renae [](http://chase-acow.livejournal.com/profile)[**chase_acow**](http://chase-acow.livejournal.com/)  
F/P: _Live Free or Die Hard_ Farrell/McClane  
Rating: NC-17  
Disclaimer: 5,000 words of not mine, written with no money.  
Summary: _Matt was trying desperately to ignore the chaos reigning around him, if he got out of this alive then he was never playing Grand Theft Auto again. He’d stick with Frogger._  
A/N: A retelling of the movie in the small moments. Some dialog borrowed, that is not mine. I can point it out if anyone is confused.

  
Matt dabbed at some more of the blood clotting over McClane’s forehead, and flaked off some of the dried stuff as he went. It was mostly an exercise in futility as all he did was push the dark red blood around with his already soaked rag. He pulled out the travel pack of tissues from his bag and fished one out, wetting it on his tongue and going back to work.

He was crouched awkwardly above the other man trying hard not to breathe too deeply in all the exhaust and potentially noxious fumes. Who knew a helicopter blown out of the sky would smell so bad? Matt was trying desperately to ignore the chaos reigning around him, if he got out of this alive then he was never playing Grand Theft Auto again. He’d stick with Frogger.

Below him, McClane was starting to breathe faster, moving his head and letting out little grunts as he woke up. He’d only been out for a couple of minutes, but they were the longest couple of minutes of Matt’s life. “Oh Shit, thank god,” Matt said, wetting another Kleenex and dipping it down to swipe at the corner of McClane’s mouth. “You just killed that helicopter with your car!”

That was, pretty amazing, actually if rather stupid and suicidal, Matt thought ignoring the moment his heart stopped because he thought McClane was still in the fireball of an auto wreck. It was only because without McClane he wouldn’t make it ten minutes before getting filled with a million holes from a machine gun. Or squashed by another helicopter, or another of the hundred or so incredibly painful scenarios floating around his head.

“Yeah, well I was out of bullets,” McClane said, shifting his head from side to side trying to crack his vertebra. He blinked his eyes open grimacing at Matt and then shoved him away. “What the hell are you doing, kid?”

Because of the way he’d been squatting, Matt end up sprawled on his butt between McClane’s thighs with his legs spread around the other man’s waist. His palms stung from slapping the concrete and he brought them up to rub on his jeans. “Shit, I was just trying to clean up your face,” he muttered, thinking that next time he wouldn’t bother. Let the guy’s eyelids cement shut for all he cared. He didn’t care.

“Jesus,” McClane said holding up the wadded tissue before he chucked it away. The sweat and blood on his head shone in the light of the headlamps aimed at them. “Next time keep your spit to yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” he mumbled trying to pick himself up without jostling the other man too much. Probably only a trained psychiatrist would be able to tell if there were any further brain damage, but there might be internal bleeding or something.

McClane heaved himself up using the car for as much leverage as he could, favoring his right leg. He was scarred, scorched, and smelly, and Matt had never seen anyone like him before. It was like Arnold Schwarzenegger come to life, except smaller, balder and more redneck. The jocks back in high school hadn’t even had a tenth the masculinity that McClane carried around in his pinky finger.

“You all right, kid?” McClane asked his soft voice cutting through the noise of the tunnel and straight to Matt’s groin. He reached down to hold out a bloody hand for Matt to take.

 _Other than apparently having a sexual identity crisis at the tender age of twenty two? Fine,_ Matt thought semi-hysterically, staring up at McClane’s dirty face. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he clasped McClane’s hand but barely had time to set his feet before he was jerked upright. He hopped trying not to collide with McClane from his momentum. “Skinned my knee and I think my asthma is acting up.”

 _Yes, because babbling will win him over._

Chuckling, McClane rolled his eyes and checked his gun handling it with care that made Matt itch to have those hands on his body. People were starting to group together in the tunnel, the mob closest to them starting to point fingers and raise their voices, “Nice. C’mon let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Matt asked looking wildly around at the destruction they’d caused. _He’d caused._ He was following hot on McClane’s footsteps so when the other man stopped, Matt ran smack into his back and wrapped an arm around McClane to keep from falling.

McClane cranked his head over his shoulder to look at Matt, “Ya mind, kid?”

“What?” Matt asked, lifting his head and getting caught up in McClane’s glare. McClane raised an eyebrow and dropped his eyes to Matt’s hand on his stomach. Matt blushed and took his hand back, wiping it on his shirt and then running it through his hair. “Sorry. Uh, sorry.”

“Just watch better, get it?” McClane said as jumping up on the hood of a car and turning in a circle looking at god knew what. “I’ve got enough trouble without you taking pot shots at me too.”

“I’m no blackhat,” Matt mumbled, dropping his gaze and scuffing his shoe on the cement. He wasn’t, not anymore. This wasn’t his fault; well not on purpose anyway, it could have happened to anyone. Well, anyone on the FBI’s hacker list, who had the bad luck of having a voice kink and listening to that chick for an hour straight.

This was insane. His life wasn’t supposed to be an action movie. Matt was content with his apartment, his pre-kaboom apartment, and his life. Sure he wasn’t flush with fame or money yet and his only friends were the guys next door who were even more pathetic than he was, but it was his. And no one had been trying to kill him. The only things he had to worry about were carpel tunnel syndrome and his inevitably slowing metabolism.

Having either found or not found what he was looking for, McClane jumped back down and grabbed Matt’s elbow, pulling him along beside the wall. “What’s that mean anyway?” he asked, taking much longer strides than Matt was used to forcing him to almost jog to keep up. “You said that before, ‘whitehats and blackhats’.”

“It’s the American myth of the west,” Matt said, trying not to gasp to keep his breath up. His knee really was twinging now and any second the sweat would hit the scrapes and it’d start burning. “You know, good guys always wore the white hats and bad guys always wore the black hats. Simplification at its most basic. Binary.”

McClane looked back at him, studying his face in the growing daylight until he nodded to himself and said, “I like cowboys.”

“I thought you didn’t give a shit,” Matt said, not sulking, absolutely not sulking but mostly only because McClane was pulling him again and they were about to break into daylight and fresh air.

“Maybe, I’ve changed my mind,” McClane said catching Matt without looking when Matt tripped over some loose concrete. He patted Matt on the chest and then they were off again, “Keep up kid, I’ve got some jerk offs to kill.”

*****

Matt woke up slowly; he was cool and comfortable for the first time in over a day and he would have killed to stay just like that for just another five minutes. His head was resting on something soft and – moving.

“Good morning, sunshine,” a growly voice said from just above Matt, but he also felt it vibrate through the side of his face.

He realized he’d fallen into a slouch while he’d been sleeping so that his face was mashed into McClane’s side with his arm thrown over McClane’s thigh. Matt jerked up, scrubbing a hand over his face and yawning. “What’s going on?” he asked trying to stomp down on an erection that he _really_ didn’t need. “Where are we?”

“Almost there. Apparently, you decided to share your saliva with me again,” McClane said taking a hand from the steering wheel to rub a dark spot under his right pectoral with his thumb. “Thought you’d want to boot up, do some finger exercises or whatever you hackers do.”

“‘’Boot up’?’ Do you know any slang from the last ten years?” Matt asked, turning to the window and watching the dark landscape flash by outside. He hated driving at the best of times, and now was definitely not that. He was still starving.

McClane glanced over and caught Matt’s gaze in the reflection of the window and smirked, “Hey, I’m fly with the kid’s hip jazz.”

That startled a scoff out of Matt, a soft laugh as he twisted his head to stare at McClane. No way was a cop that far outside the modern culture, but McClane had a way of playing it downbeat so that Matt never knew when he was joking. It was annoying, really annoying, and almost kinda sexy.

Sexy became much less important though, after several threats to his life, a fight to the death, and an exploding building. McClane was still on top of him, pushing him into the ground, and sheltering him from the blast even after the fireball receded. He was breathing hard and pushing his face into the back of Matt’s neck.

Matt had never been so hard in his entire life.

“Ow, ow, ow!” Matt groaned, struggling under McClane’s weight just hard enough to wiggle his butt right into what was probably McClane’s crotch. He instantly stilled, sucking bits of dirt into his throat as his heartbeat roared in his ears.

McClane didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong and stayed right where he was, running a hand down the side of Matt’s face. “What?” he asked, his breath hot and harsh in Matt’s hair.

“Whisker burn,” Matt whispered, praying he wouldn’t whimper or start humping the unforgiving metal of the van. His skin was on fire everywhere McClane touched or breathed, and where his face scraped the sensitive nape of Matt’s neck would never be the same again.

Soft puffs of breath rolled over Matt’s cheek as McClane laughed, “Jesus, after all that, you’re complaining about whisker burn? Are you insane?”

The laughter shifted them, bringing them into even closer contact with McClane’s legs lining up on the outside of Matt’s, pushing them together from neck to knee. Matt let his head fall forward to softly knock on the floor, “Um, yes?”

“You are something else, kid,” McClane said, shifting some more to hold himself up on one arm and leaned to the side. “You know, I meant to ask you about this.” McClane moved his hand to pluck at Matt’s chin, running his fingers through the wiry hairs he found there. “You call this facial hair? I bet it took you two weeks to grow this scruff.”

“Two and a half, you asshole,” Matt ground out, unable to help the shift in his hips as McClane’s fingers brushed over his cheeks and back down across his lips. This was torture, pure unadulterated, rated R for sexual situations, torture, and as far as Matt was concerned it could go on forever.

*****

Matt tugged McClane to a stop just outside the circle of light emanating from Warlock’s porch. It was a task that was harder than it looked because once McClane got started it might take an entire army to stop him. Again Matt was distracted by the strength that McClane carried as if he didn’t even realize he could squish Matt like a bug and not even notice.

“What now?” McClane asked, a slight whine threatening to surface in the back of his throat that Matt absolutely did not find hot. Not at all, even a little bit. Of course, if McClane were to say something dirty in that tone of voice, Matt wouldn’t be held responsible for certain parts of his anatomy.

“Listen, Warlock is,” Matt stalled out trying to find a way to explain that McClane would take seriously. Their generation gap was more of a gaping chasm just waiting for Matt to take a flying leap into it head first. “Let’s pretend that there’s a geek scale.”

“A geek scale,” McClane parroted back at him, a look transforming his face that was half amusement and half annoyance. Actually, that’s how he usually looked at Matt, except when they were getting shot at, and then it was all annoyance.

“Yeah,” Matt carried on quickly; shooting a quick look over his shoulder to make sure that they hadn’t tripped some kind of alarm or made so much noise that Warlock’s mom heard them. “Say that on a scale of one to ten that I’m a three/four, well then, Warlock is a …”

McClane shifted into a smirk, setting his head back and crossing his arms over his chest. “An eleven?” he suggested helpfully in a tone that suggested laughter even if the man did have slightly more tact than to bray right in Matt’s face.

A sigh would be pointless, because Matt had learned that either that kind of subtly went right over McClane’s head or he just got his jollies winding Matt up. “Kinda,” he said, unwilling to give McClane the satisfaction of splitting hairs. “So if you could just let me do the talking, we’ll get through this a lot faster.”

“All right Geek Boy,” McClane said skeptically, putting his hands on his hips and leaning forward, “it’s your show. At least until I get impatient, or annoyed, or for that matter - bored. Then I start beating people.”

“Fine,” Matt agreed, sliding past McClane to walk up the steps. At the last second he remembered what else he was going to say and spun around with his mouth open. He smacked right into the brick wall that was McClane’s chest and let out a small grunt on impact.

Instinctively, McClane brought his arms up around Matt’s waist and hugged him close, tucking his chin into his chest speaking into Matt’s hair, “Whoa, kid. Haven’t we talked about this?”

Matt brought his arms up to grip the back of McClane’s biceps and lifted his head ready to say something sarcastic. Unfortunately, he got lost in the small smile that turned up the very edges of McClane’s lips and softened his eyes from hot-blooded killer to something more approachable. It was like all the moisture in his mouth spontaneously evaporated all at the same time and left him breathing in dust that went straight to his heart.

“Did you want something?” McClane pressed softly, his grin growing the longer Matt stood there with what was probably an immensely stupid look on his face.

Licking his lips, Matt put his palms flat on McClane’s chest and pushed trying to gain the room to think without smelling the blood and sweat that made McClane smell ridiculously like sex. “Uh, Warlock hates cops, so don’t feel like you have to announce it,” he said wondering what would happen if he lifted his chin and closed the distance between them.

“I’ll try to restrain myself,” McClane said dryly, taking a step back and slowly letting go of Matt as if he were reluctant to move his fingers. “Now let’s go before I get annoyed.”

Warlock was predictably unhappy to find Matt on the doorstep of his Command Center. He was downright agitated to learn that his mother had also let McClane in.

“Dude! You brought your _father_ down to my Command Center!” Warlock fumed slinging his keyboard to the side and heaving himself out of the chair. He was bigger than the last time Matt had had to ask for help, and showed it by walking around his post to poke Matt hard in the chest.

“First of all, this isn’t a ‘command center’ it’s a play room for dorks,” McClane said, matching Warlock for volume and glared, absently sliding a hand over Warlock’s CB radio. “Second, I am _so_ not his father.”

“Well, who is he then, Farrell?” Warlock asked turning his head to keep them both in his line of sight. “Because I smell bacon.”

“He’s … um” Matt cut off McClane before he had a chance to do more that open his mouth. Then he realized he had to stall, trying to think up anything he could say that would get Warlock to help them. “He’s … um – he’s my boyfriend.”

The second it was out of his mouth Matt could have kicked himself. Too bad he wasn’t that limber.

McClane choked and turned it into a cough and knocking over one of the cardboard cutouts he’d been looking at. He jerked his hand back like he’d been burned and widened his eyes at Matt.

Warlock just snorted, “Well, there’s no accounting for taste, I guess.”

“Hey!” McClane yelled striding back over to where Matt stood hoping the floor would open up and swallow him. “Could we just get back to business, gentlemen? I need to know everything you know about Thomas Gabriel.”

Rolling his eyes, Warlock flipped a hand at them and walked back over to his recliner, sitting down and pulling his keyboard back in his lap. A few clicks later and the screens in front of him where flashing through various schematics and lines of code. Something in Matt relaxed as he looked at the familiar figures, at least until he realized how close McClane had come without him noticing.

McClane raised an eyebrow at Matt and executed an ironic bow, flourishing his hand out in front. “After you, sweetcheeks,” he said in a completely straight voice, his face blank though his eyes shone with suppressed humor.

Nervously, Matt inched around McClane waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’d just stuck his neck out and got nothing in return. Well, he got to keep his neck, that was something. Just as he thought he was safe, McClane delivered a stinging slap to his ass and then straightened and shrugged as if to ask ‘Whatcha goin’ do?’

*****

 _”I wouldn’t bet on you either, you need me around to make sure you get out okay.”_ Matt wondered what on earth he’d been thinking when he uttered that sentence, buckling his seatbelt in McClane’s latest stolen vehicle. His heart was hammering in his throat at every new sound that echoed around them. McClane hadn’t said a word since they entered the compound, just picked up the first substitute club he could find.

Matt missed the shoulder holster; that was hot the way it highlighted McClane’s broad shoulders and chest. Since he’d ripped one of the sleeves out Matt had been treated to the perfect view of McClane’s flexing muscles. McClane’s soft voice was the last nail in the coffin of Matt’s restraint. Sometimes it was all he could do to keep himself from humping McClane’s leg. This thing he had was getting out of control.

“Jesus fucking Christ, kid,” McClane cursed under his breath, hauling Matt back against his body. One arm slung low on Matt’s hips keeping him flush against McClane and the other was across Matt’s chest, McClane’s hand clamped tight across Matt’s mouth.

They stayed like that for several long moments, McClane’s mouth next to Matt’s temple and Matt trying very hard not to spontaneously orgasm. Shit, McClane was strong; Matt couldn’t have moved if he’d wanted to. He’d already frozen next to McClane’s bulk, but when he heard a door slam somewhere above and behind them, he stopped breathing completely.

After a moment, McClane slowly relaxed dropping his hand from Matt’s mouth and though he kept his hold on Matt it wasn’t hard enough to bruise. He turned his head slightly so that he was speaking right in Matt’s ear, his lips brushing the outer shell, “Matt, if you can’t concentrate one hundred percent then go back out and wait at the car. They have my daughter, and I can’t worry about you too, okay? I don’t need your blood on my hands.”

“I’m sorry, I just,” Matt trailed off wondering what the hell was wrong with him. McClane had been better to him than anyone since his parents had kicked him out of the house, but that didn’t mean he was ready to let Matt crawl into his pants. Really, McClane had every reason in the world to beat the shit out of Matt. “I just -”

“You just _what_ , kid?” McClane asked, exhaustion evident in his tone and the sigh in his voice. “What’s going on in that geeky, hacker head of yours?”

“Just,” Matt hesitated, and decided that if he were going to die in the next twenty minutes anyway, then what difference would it make if McClane punched him in the face? He jerked out of McClane’s clutch and twisted, pressing himself just as tight, front to front with McClane. He reached up and grabbed McClane’s face, handling it roughly as he jerked it down and breathed, “ _this_.”

It was a bad kiss. Not that Matt had that much experience to compare it with, but there was no heat, no moment when he knew he had taken the right risk. McClane, _John_ was unresponsive, pressed awkwardly against Matt and the wall. Matt was about to pull away and claim severe adrenaline shock when John surged forward and everything clicked.

Matt might have squeaked in the face John’s complete and furious attention.

“Jesus,” John broke away, panting harshly and licking his lips. He twisted his head away, looking over Matt’s shoulder. “Shit, kid. Fuck. I’m old enough to be your father.”

“But you’re not, John,” Matt replied and pulled John’s head back around, pressing their lips together again. This time Matt was ready for the intensity of John’s touch, and pushed back, desperate for whatever he could get. He clutched at the fabric of John’s shirt, holding it in his fists and straining forward.

Heat pooled low in his belly, only increasing at the soft sounds escaping from John’s throat. They were breathy moans and soft sighs, gentle like only John could maintain while still being completely in charge. John slowed the kiss down, lingering over Matt’s lips before his tongue pushed inside, stroking along Matt’s teeth. For the first moment since they met, Matt was completely still, and felt completely safe.

John pulled back slowly, his eyes still shut, eyelashes settled on his cheeks. If Matt wasn’t already in love, then he was now.

“C’mon kid,” John said blinking slowly, looking more devastated than when he was getting slammed through windows and down an elevator shaft. He reached up to curl his fingers through the hair at the back of Matt’s neck. “We’ve got work to do.”

**

  
Five more seconds of unrestrained hyperventilation and Matt was going to erupt into a full blown asthma attack. The gun in his hand wavered, shaking violently where he still had it pointed at the fallen bad guy. His heart hammered wildly in his chest, and if he didn’t blink soon his eyes were probably going to pop out of his skull.

“Kid! Matt!”

McClane’s yelling finally broke through Matt’s stupor, making him turn his head, finally willing to see if McClane was still alive. McClane had collapsed against the car, Lucy on one side of him and Thomas Gabriel sprawled behind them. McClane was even dirtier and bloodier than the last time Matt had looked at him.

“Put the gun down, Matt,” McClane said gently, his voice soft and steady against the fast approaching sirens. “Put it down, and come here.”

The gun dropped from Matt’s hands and clattered to the ground. His knee was a burning lump of the most intense pain Matt had ever felt, but somehow he made it to McClane’s free side, dragging it behind him. He pressed himself to John, mirroring Lucy’s position and letting John wrap an arm around his shoulders.

“You did good, kid,” John said, a big hand coming up to splay across Matt’s face to pull Matt’s head to his lips. He brushed a kiss against Matt’s temple, smoothing Matt’s hair out of the way. “Just rest for a minute, everything’s going to be fine.”

With a sigh, Matt finally let himself slump into McClane’s comforting bulk. He decided he didn’t care anymore and let his head drop to rest against John’s mostly uninjured shoulder. “I never want to be ‘that guy’ again,” he muttered thinking that sooner or later he was going to throw up and praying it would be later.

“Tough luck, kid,” John chuckled, running his hand down Matt’s arm. “Once you’re ‘that guy’ you never get to quit. Trust me, I tried.”

“Suck,” Matt said just as the Feds burst into the building.

**

  
Matt had never been kept in a hospital before. He’d never broken any bones or had any other childhood illnesses that required it. It wasn’t long before he decided he hated hospitals, their stupid white walls, and harpy nurses who could have made a happy home in the Nazi party.

It wasn’t until two days after he and John were checked in that he managed to slip by the witch currently on guard duty and hobble into John’s room. He wasn’t getting the hang of his crutches yet and couldn’t wait to get to a computer chair so he could just roll around wherever he wanted to go.

John was quietly lying back on his bed, most of his exposed skin still bandaged so that whatever extreme moisturizer the doctors had slathered him with would have a chance to do it’s magic. He had his eyes closed, but Matt wasn’t naïve enough to assume that he was asleep.

“Hey kid,” John said as Matt was turned, trying to close the door as quietly as he could.

“Hey, McClane,” Matt replied, smiling and swinging over to the bed, managing not to crash his crutches into anything on the way.

John opened his eyes and grinned back, reaching for the control to tilt his bed to an upright position. “How’s it going?” he asked reaching down to shift himself up on the bed.

“Oh you know,” Matt said, gesturing with a hand and drinking in the sight of John being alive and happy. “Shot in the knee, addicted to morphine. Just the usual.”

“You’re not addicted to morphine, you hypochondriac,” John teased, tilting his head and rolling his eyes.

Matt grinned, letting one side of his mouth lift up higher than the other. “You tell my nervous system that and see if it believes you,” he said looking around the room and taking in the flowers on the table by the window. _Please let them be from Lucy and not the ex-wife,_ he thought. “So, funny story. The FBI stopped by my room, I guess they’ve decided that until the straighten things out I should be put under house arrest.”

John let loose a bark of laughter, closing his eyes and shaking his head, “That just figures, save the world and get an ankle bracelet for your trouble. Fucking Feds.”

“Have I ever told you how disturbing that laugh is?” Mat asked trying to convince himself that destruction was not imminent. “Anyway, I have just one small problem. My apartment got blown up.”

“That could be a problem,” John said, getting serious and narrowing his eyes at Matt making him squirm.

Making himself meet John’s eyes, Matt didn’t duck his head like he wanted too. He was a man, damnit, he could do this. “So, I thought since you have a house, and I need a house, maybe we could work out some sort of deal,” he said in a rush, just proud that he didn’t stutter or anything.

John’s eyes widened as he looked at Matt. “Are trying to ask if you can move in with me?” he asked incredulously.

“What?” Matt asked defensively, trying to cross his arms before he remembered about the crutches he was leaning on. “You said you don’t have anyone to eat dinner with, well neither do I.”

“Kid, I…” John started and then stopped as if for the first time not sure what to say. He waited so long to continue that Matt was seconds away from blurting an apology and fleeing the room. Suddenly he grabbed Matt’s wrist and yanked just hard enough to get Matt to look at him. “Creedence is like a family member.”

“I can buy headphones,” Matt said, his heart in his throat and hope pouring off him.

“I watch the news every night,” John warned, lifting an eyebrow and quirking his lips.

Matt hopped closer and turned his wrist so that he could slip his hand inside John’s. “That’s why God invented spider solitaire,” he replied praying that this was going where he thought it was going.

John turned his head away, glancing out the window as he said softly, “I snore.”

“Big surprise,” Matt whispered back, somehow knowing that this was the moment that would make or break him. “I can roll you off your back.”

John squeezed his hand, and turned back to Matt looking as serious as if they were ten seconds away from death, “All right, Matt. You’ve got yourself a roommate, but if you bug me I’ll toss you out on the curb.”

“Fine,” Matt agreed, grinning like a loon and feeling like he could run a minute mile. Not that he knew if that was good or anything, but with a bullet hole in his knee, he’d take what he could get. Especially if that included John McClane.

**

  
Matt griped John’s biceps harder, wrapping his legs tighter around John’s waist and frantically rocking up into the other man’s weight. The slide of his back against the cool sheets was driving him crazy as John’s raspy chest hair simultaneously sensitized his front. John’s cock in his ass felt huge, pushing in and out tearing him in pieces.

“Just breathe, kid,” John said, his voice a deep and gravely pincher that broke straight into Matt’s chest. “Breathe kid, and relax. Let me in, let me do this.”

They’d lost the pillow earlier, so when Matt tossed his head back it only bounced off the mattress. He let his feet back down and they scrambled searching for purchase on the sheets. “I’m trying! Don’t you think I’m trying?” he asked his voice spiraling up and out of control.

John slipped a hand down to grab a handful of Matt’s ass and used it to tip him up, bending him in half and holding him down easily. The change in angle gave Matt just enough incentive to finally relax and let John slide all the way home until Matt could feel balls resting against his ass.

“Oh my god,” Matt groaned, hooking a hand around the back of John’s neck and holding on for dear life. He’d never felt anything so intense, never done anything so intimate. “Oh shit!”

“I’m going to ask you to wait on that,” John said through gritted teeth, sweat beading up on his forehead, as he tried to wait for Matt to relax. His entire body was shaking and it was as though he couldn’t help rolling his hips slightly.

Matt gaped for breath, sucking in oxygen as fast as he could, trying desperately to unclench his muscles. He’d been the one to push for this and he needed to prove that he could be a partner in this relationship and not just a kid with a hero worship crush. His body had turned traitor the instant John began touching him, arching and writhing with little direction from him.

Now his body was just as unwilling to go any further.

John leaned down and caught Matt’s lips in a tender kiss, softly brushing their faces together, and finally Matt melted. John groaned as he jerked his hips, pulling out and pushing back in with small measured thrusts. Matt moaned, and John couldn’t hold back anymore his actions growing rushed and hurried, taking Matt along for the ride.

Something inside him fired off, and Matt came long and hard, his semen sticking in between their chests as John continued to buck against him. Finally, Matt was able to let himself go loose and enjoy how John was taking him apart only to put him back together again.

Afterward, John rolled Matt to the side and spooned up behind him wrapping an arm around Matt’s midsection before he dropped into sleep snoring like a jack hammer. Matt wiggled for a moment getting comfortable and realizing that sure, he liked being ‘that guy’.


End file.
